IMAGERY
by Maui0murice
Summary: This was supposed to be about a darn chair. Or a wall. It was supposed to be only descriptors and imagery. DISCLAIMER: not actually about Skip Beat! it is just posted for the small Skip Beat! community on discord. anyone can read this trash smut nothingness though!


She opened the door to reveal a long, narrow entryway filled with mismatched shoes, umbrellas, overcoats, scarves, and everything else one might need for the outdoors. There was such an abundance she thought there must have been over a dozen people living in this building. She knew there wasn't, but that's how it seemed. The walls were a faded yellow of sorts, with peeling edges. The kind you'd see when someone has painted over wallpaper, and there's been years of abuse and moisture collecting beneath as well as on the surface. Maybe the walls only looked yellow because it was so poorly lit. The light fixture had a dim, yellow bulb in it, and was hanging by a few wires off the wall. The deplorable state of the entryway was a stark contrast to the quality of the apparel strewn about the floor. Peaking out from under the clothing you could see a dark colored shag carpet that may have been in style at some point in time, but was now so outdated that most people ripped it out when they bought the property. Not her though. Never her. She could find happiness and beauty in even the most distasteful things. Everything except herself. Even though she was the most exquisite being in the universe. Flaws and all. It didn't matter to the intruder that she was messy with her belongings. It didn't matter that she refused to screw the dangling light fixture in the hallway back into the wall, or change the bulb when it started to dim, or that she refused to hang her coats in the always empty closet by the entrance. Hangers were just too difficult when you _just needed to get out of your clothes _as she puts it. She knew that when she walked down the rest of the hallway what she would find. It would be the same as always. She would find this impeccable being draped over the arm of her old, grey sofa in nothing but a pair of underwear and socks. It always amazes her when she would find skinny jeans among the clothing haphazardly strewn across the floor as if it were ripped off her body while she was still making her way through the room, but she still managed to keep her socks on. It baffled her to no end. The intruder cautiously made her way around the outerwear, careful to not trip or make a sound. She needed to catch a glimpse of her before she knew she had a visitor. She was always greeted with the most amazing of sights when she caught her off guard. Just the week prior she crept in to the most beautiful sight. The intruder found her draped upside down on the same old couch with her long, white hair hanging off the seat, delicately tracing the intricate webbing of stitches with her fingertips, while she lightly sang a melodious lullaby. Every low note her hand would dip downward on the seat just barely grazing the small silver buttons embedded within the couch. While with every high note, her beautiful voice would get the slightest bit louder, and her hand would lift so high off the cushion it looked as if she wasn't even touching it anymore. But, she continued to lightly caress the seat along the perforations. While the intruder was entranced by her ministrations upon the couch, she didn't realize her other hand was gracefully dancing up and down her bare torso. Grazing slowly along the pit of her flat, toned stomach. Dipping at her navel. Up her rib cage. Circling underneath, then on the outer side of her pert breast, and up her neck. Once she combed her fingers through her hair, tugging a bit at the scalp before continuing to the ends gently, the intruder noticed this hand and it's path. She had brought it back down her face, drawing her own bottom lip down and slightly wetting her finger. The intruder could see the faint wet trail marking her skin by her collarbone as she trailed her hand back down toward her breast. This pass she did not trace around, but she went straight over the mound. She clearly pressed harder when grazing her nipple, and the intruder could tell she was excited over her own touch. The tiny bud perked right up, and became hard instantly. Her voice hitched as she continued to ring her lullaby, but that did not stop her from pinching and pulling at her nipple, then palming the same breast. Her back was arching upwards, away from the couch as she used her other hand to lightly trace her panty line. She didn't stop palming her breast, or belting out her perfect melody as she fingered around her newly discovered blooms. Her fingers finally found her bud and slit, and even though she caressed through her underwear, her song became a loud moan. As she tossed her head back even further over the seat her piercing blue eyes shot open and immediately found her intruder's bright green eyes smoldering in her direction. She did not stop touching herself even for a beat as they locked gazes. As the intruder licked her lips and took a half step forward, she impossibly arched her back further up and moaned louder in anticipation. She pinched and pulled her nipple up in the direction of her intruder in a clear invitation to join her. Her intruder couldn't stand by any longer, and took those last few steps toward the couch in bliss.

The intruder didn't hear any singing today, nor did she hear her sweet mewling. The memory of the previous week had the intruder slick between the legs and ready. She still wouldn't rush to her side, though. The thrill of finding something unexpected was greater than the thrill of a quick fuck. As she made her way down the dark hall she made note of today's discarded outfit. A long, pitch black trench coat with large decorative buttons down the length. No pants. No shirt. No bra. Just the coat. The intruder thought this was strange. She _always_ took off her clothes immediately. She peered around the corner, and took in the room. The far wall was the same dirty window peering out over the city below. The sliding glass door to the balcony was open. As she took another step around the corner she took in the sight of an empty couch. An empty room. Books strewn about the floor, and no lights on. The only light came from the same dirty window spanning the entire apartment wall. It was late in the evening, but there was still just enough sun light to see everything. The intruder saw her. She had stepped out onto the balcony. Of course she had only worn the trench coat all day. She wore it as if it were a dress. As if it were made to be the only thing on your body. She stood on her balcony bare to the world, wearing nothing but black thigh high socks and white lace cheekies. The wind blew at her hair, and her intruder caught sight of her exposed back. She had the most perfect arch at the small of her back leading to her plump, round, ass.

* * *

**PHEW. Aaaaaand I'm done forever.**

**IT WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT A DAMN CHAIR. **


End file.
